


60

by Johnismyloveforever64



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Cancer, F/M, Hospitalization, M/M, Medical, Sexual Content, Sexual Situations, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnismyloveforever64/pseuds/Johnismyloveforever64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds a lump on his leg and there is a chance (a 60% chance) that it could be cancerous. In his attempt to battle these odds, he seeks comfort in his best friend turned soul mate, and tries his best to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Starts with an Inkling

John sat alone in his doctor’s office. He had sat there many times, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this time was completely unique. He had never felt so scared sitting on that table for. Not even when he was waiting to get his tetanus shot. He had never felt so vulnerable, despite all the times he’d been asked to remove his trousers. He had never felt so shaken. And he had never felt like he had nowhere to run.

Up until then, his life had been going a million miles an hour in the right direction. Everything had been changing, but in a way that was exciting and new. He had never liked change, but he welcomed this kind, because it had been right. All this time, he had no reason to be afraid of his new life. So far, everything was right. 

Until he found a lump on his inner thigh. He had panicked, at first, naturally. Then, he stopped, forced himself to think of the positive possibilities, that would seem unlikely to anyone else. He would try to not think about it, but every time he came close to forgetting it, it’d pop back into his mind, worrying him all over again.   
He didn’t tell anyone about it. He was afraid of what they might suggest. The truth that he was ignoring. He thought it’d be better if he kept it a secret, though this was a secret to   
him as well. He went two weeks keeping quiet about it. 

At the end of the second week, he was in the middle of a rehearsal, when he started thinking about it again. It just sort of crawled into his brain out of nowhere, and he had no way of getting rid of it. He tried to focus on the song he was playing, but he had played it too many times for it still hold his attention. He tried focusing on Paul standing next to him, singing joyoulsly into the microphone. John tried to focus on his cute little face as he played, but all he could think about is how Paul had first bonded. It was a year after they met, and even though they were close before, they didn’t become truly brothers until they were united by one thing: tragedy. John tried not to remember the tragedy in his own life, knowing that he’d never be able to continue singing if he did. But instead he allowed his mind to float to what happened in Paul’s, the truth scaring him more than anything else had in those past two weeks. He stopped playing. 

“John,” George Martin called from the booth. “What happened?” John was frozen at his mike, guitar in hand, looking straight ahead, horror struck on his face. The only thing he managed to say was, “I’m scared.” He ran from the booth, out of the studio, and into the street. There are few fans scattered outside, but they knew something was wrong. They stayed away. 

The other three quickly rushed outside, asking him what was wrong. He didn’t answer.   
“Take me home,” was the only thing he could muster. His wife Cynthia was concerned that he was home so early, but he claimed that he wasn’t feeling well, and that that was all. The other three were reluctant to leave them alone, but he insisted he was just having a bad day, and was nothing a little R and R couldn’t fix.   
None of his lies made him feel better. All it did was remind him that they were just that. Lies. They couldn’t serve as the safety nets that they promised to be. Instead they left him scared and alone in his bed, pondering his quickly closing future.


	2. The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has to cope with reality.

In the morning, Brian called him, filled with concerns. “John, the boys told me what happened at the studio. Is there anything you need to talk to me about?” he probed, but John didn’t say anything. Not for a while. “I’m still here,” Brian reminded him after several minutes. “If you’re stressed out about the Royal Variety thing, then just tell me. I can ease your nerves—“

“It’s not about the Queen,” he interrupted, his voice quivering. 

“Then what is it then?” There was a long pause before he answered. In it, he considered two possibilities: one where he finds out the truth, and one where he constantly lives in fear. He was scared of an answer, but not getting one was driving him crazy. He thought about Paul again, and so he answered. “I need a doctor, Brian. Now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not that something’s wrong…I’m just concerned,” he answered timidly. 

“John, tell me exactly what you’re concerned about,” Brian demanded. There was a long pause before John answered.   
"I have a lump...on my leg." There was another pause, this time on Brian's side. As soon as the words escaped John's lips he wanted to pull them back in, but letting them go also made him feel a little freer. Brian, on the other end of the line, felt weighed down. His John, who he adored and saw as a son in a way, could be...he couldn't finish his thought. He knew though that he still had to be himself, and handle it the old Epstein way. 

"So, we'll get you to the doctor then," his voice was low and lacking emotion. 

"Soon, please."

"This afternoon, if possible." There was another pause. "And, John?" 

"Yeah," he squeaked. "I'm here for you." They hung up. 

..............

John spent the morning trying to write songs to get his mind on something else, but it didn't work. He had no inspiration. 

"John, I brought you some tea," Cynthia called, offering him a cup. He took it and smiled at her, giving her a quick kiss. He looked at her sadly, and then he looked away. He refused to entertain the idea that Cynthia could be left all alone, a widow and a single mother, and there was nothing he could do about it. He grabbed her hands suddenly, pulling her into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She squeezed him. "Oh sweetie, it's alright. You just have a little cold is all, no biggie." He smiled bravely, not meeting her eyes. 

"Cyn-y, I love." She smiled glowingly. 

"I love you too, so, so much." She kissed him gently. A whine escaped his lips. She looked at him worriedly, and then sat down next to him. She squeezed his hands. "Johnny, sweetie, is there something wrong?" She brushed his hair back and looked him in the eyes. He looked into her beautiful green eyes and he felt this rush of fear and anxiety and bitterness and melancholy, and all he wanted to do was reassure her that everything would be alright, but knowing the truth, it just broke him. He began to cry into Cyn's shoulder, she had her arm wrapped around him and her head rested on his. "You have to tell me what's wrong." He looked up at her, his lip quivering and his face red. He didn't speak for a long time. Finally, breathing heavily, he replied. 

"I have to go to the doctors!" He exclaimed, rushing out of the room and out of the house. 

He sat in his car for several moments, hyperventilating. He wanted to drown in despair, but he had more important things to do, and as scared as he was, he hoped, even if there was only a small part of him that believed it, that when he returned to home, he would feel much, much better--or worse.


End file.
